Legendary
by Happynomnom
Summary: Kingsman is made up of the elite of the elite. Exceptionally talented and full of potential, he was stronger than all of them put together. The story of how Harry Hart became Kingsman's best agent Galahad.
1. Prologue

**Hello everyone! This is my first Kingsman ****fanfiction- I watched the movie the other day and it was so spectacular… so please leave a review, I'd really appreciate it! This chapter is just an introduction. I hope you enjoy it!**

Plot: Harry Hart's story on how he became Kingsman agent Galahad.

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**Disclaimer: I definitely do not own Kingsman. Aw, man, If I did… *grins***

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**Prologue**

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His parents were ambitious, perhaps too much at times. Yes, they loved him to pieces, but they sure had a shit way of showing it. They shoved, rather than pushed. But he certainly wasn't about to argue. After all, he was top in the entire school. Academically and physically.

When he was in ninth grade, his parents began fighting.

When he was in tenth grade, they started beating each other. He had to intervene multiple times so neither would be sent to the hospital. His father was a strong, big, man, but his mother was clever and would often grab a kitchen knife without her husband noticing before he threw a punch.

When he was in eleventh grade, they split up, and forced upon him a very dangerous question.

"Which of us do you want to live with?"

So Harry picked neither. He packed his stuff and moved to London.

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**Just a prologue- Next chapter is definitely longer... thanks for reading!**

**-happynomnom**


	2. Chapter 2: Revealed

_**Chapter Two- Revealed**_

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Beer sloshed down the front of Harry's shirt. He sighed morosely, blinking. He glanced around his flat in half-hearted despair. It was nice enough, he supposed- he'd had enough money to last him a couple months, just enough time for him to settle in and find a job. He worked late hours as a tavern. It was a miracle he had even managed to get a job- luckily, the manager of the tavern felt sympathetic and realized Harry was smart and hardworking. He took another gulp of his drink before setting it down. After shrugging on his coat, he took the stairs out of the building and caught a bus.

Two and a half hours into his shift at the tavern, a group of rowdy, drunk customers stumbled in. He frowned inwardly, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. They sat down and ordered a couple pints of draft. Eventually, they quieted down. One man took out a deck of cards and they began playing, occasionally swearing when dealt with a shit hand.

Fifteen minutes later, the owner of the cards started to yell at the player sitting across from him. They began to argue, and sure enough, a fight broke out. Harry's lips twitched, but he didn't intervene. The fight would probably simmer out in a few moments or so.

But when it didn't, Harry started to feel a bit nervous. He called his manager out from his office, but sadly, his manager freaked out and ran away, locking himself in the room (along with the safe containing all the money and Harry's monthly salary, which made Harry very angry). Harry grabbed the telephone and dialed the police, but the call wouldn't go out. He tried another two times before giving up. Meanwhile, the fight was getting more heated. Several patrons had already fled the scene without paying their tabs (or their tips for that matter, which made Harry even angrier). The rest of the customers fled when one man pulled out a knife. Harry decided that he had no options left. Whether it was from sheer stupidity or anger, he stepped forward.

"Gentlemen, please," he said loudly. There was a pause in the fighting. Harry nearly sighed in relief. Then the man with the knife raised an eyebrow.

"Sonny, you better git outta the way before you git hurt," he replied, brandishing the knife. Harry glanced at the exit. Another man was standing in front of it, blocking the way. He gave a yellow-toothed grin at Harry, waving a fist threateningly. There was no way Harry would get out of there without being severely beaten. His only other option would be to exit through his manager's office, but that was locked. He could also just stand where he was and pray he wouldn't get bludgeoned, but Harry was a man of action. And anyways, the men were approaching closer and closer. He reached under the bar counter, grabbing a long tube. In a flash, he had it connected to the tap containing Absolut Vodka- he turned the tap on, pressing his finger onto the opening of the tube, feeling the pressure quickly building. A few drops of Vodka squirted out. The men were less than two feet away. There were four of them. Harry waited until his finger couldn't take it anymore. Finally, he raised the hose, aimed it at the man with the knife's eyes, and released his finger. Vodka shot right into his eyes, and he howled in pain. With his mates distracted, Harry leapt over the counter, taking one man out right away with a knee in the groin, which caused him to double over. He was knocked out cold when Harry smashed a bottle of beer over his head. The other two fixed their gazes on him, growling. They both ran towards him at the same time. Harry started forward, before ducking suddenly and sliding between them, right to where the man with the knife was still clutching his eyes in pain. He wrestled the knife out of the man's fist and ran at one of the remaining men, a guttural shriek bubbling out of his throat. He attempted to plunge the knife into one man's thigh, but missed. The man grabbed his wrist, but Harry managed to struggle away, promptly elbowing him in the solar plexus. He grabbed a stool and whacked the man's face with it, hitting him square in the forehead, rendering him completely unconscious. He heard the stool splinter. To his surprise, the remaining man backed away before turning on his heel and legging it. Without a single hesitation, he ran to the closing door and locked it. Harry didn't want those guys calling some more of their violent mates to help beat him up to a pulp.

He turned his attention back to the guy still lying on the floor, whining about his burning eyes. Wielding the knife cautiously, he knelt down.

"Hello, sorry about that. I mean, after all, you were going to skew me with this, weren't you?" he asked quietly, pressing the edge of the blade into the man's throat. "Now, I would appreciate it if you took your friends here and beat it. If I ever see your face again, you're going to get more than Vodka in your eyes," he added, pushing the edge in a little deeper. The man whimpered, nodding. Rubbing his eyes, he crawled over to where both his friends lay. He stood up, struggling to drag them by the legs out of the pub. Unfortunately, due to the fact that he was half drunk and half blind, he walked straight into the door and Harry had to help him open it.

Finally, a few minutes later, it was silent and calm. Harry sat down on a bar stool, glancing around. Broken glass littered the floor, and the stool he'd used to do one man's face in had a large chunk missing from it. Suddenly, his attention was drawn to a shadow in the opposite corner of the room.

"I know you're there," he spoke tentatively.

"Very good, Harry," his manager said, clapping slowly, materializing out of the shadows. He draped a dark, shimmering cloth over his shoulder. Abruptly, his shoulder was practically invisible. Harry's eyes widened in astonishment. "Very good."

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**Hoped you guys liked it. What do you think? Interesting enough? **

**As always, thanks for reading and any feedback!**


	3. Chapter 3: King's Men

**Thank you for all the support for this story, I really appreciate it! Here's the next chapter. **

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**Recap: **"Very good, Harry," his manager said, clapping slowly, materializing out of the shadows. He draped a dark, shimmering cloth over his shoulder. Abruptly, his shoulder was practically invisible. Harry's eyes widened in astonishment. "Very good."

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"B-but… I thought you were locked in your… office…" Harry trailed off.

"Why, indeed. But I was also watching you, as I have been for quite some time. You see, Harry, I'm not who you think I am," he explained with a twinkle in his eye. He patted the bench beside him. "Come, sit, my boy." Harry complied, settling himself down. "Ever since you became one of the top students not only in your school, but in the entire country, with exceptional skills in martial arts and fencing particularly, we've been watching you. Then we witnessed the unfortunate circumstances you faced with your parents. When we realized you were coming to London by yourself, we decided to step in."

"I don't mean to interrupt sir, but who's we?"

"In a moment, Harry, in a moment." He smiled. "You see, my boy, I am not just a tavern manager." Harry gave him a look like, _well no shit, Sherlock. _"I was sent undercover to keep an eye on you. I sent subtle messages for you to come to this exact bar and ask for a job." Harry vaguely recalled this. "I placed ads under your door, had ads for this job be displayed specifically on your computer, etc., etc." He pointed at a flyer on the wall that Harry recognized immediately. "And once you were hired, we confirmed that you are hard-working, smart, loyal, and strong. After all… anyone who can heft five boxes of beer in one go, or work five straight hours on nearly minimum wage without going ballistic is good enough for me," he finished, winking. "And as a final test, we had these four lovely men come to tackle you." Harry started when the three men he had beaten up earlier along with the one man who had run away appeared in the doorway, giving him a friendly wave. Harry gaped. "And, may I also add that blinding the enemy with Vodka was _extremely_ creative." Harry gave him a sheepish grin. "Anyways, Harry, the point is that I'm offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. You're going to require some serious training, but... I see a lot of potential in you," Harry's manager said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"But sir..."

"Percival, Harry, please call me Percival."

"Yes sir, I mean, Percival... I still don't know what you're talking about."

"You'll catch on in a moment, my boy." Percival stood up, beckoning Harry to follow him. He lead him into his office, where a large portrait of a man with horn-rimmed glasses and a dashing suit hung on the wall. Percival nodded at the painting. To Harry's utter bewilderment, the man in the portrait nodded back and swung open like a door, revealing a well lit passageway. "Now Harry," he added. "There's no going back. Are you sure you want this?" Harry still wasn't completely sure about what his manager was going off about, but he nodded firmly.

"It's not like I've got anything to lose." Percival got a faraway look in his eyes.

"Exactly what I said all those years ago, word for word." He was silent for a moment, before stepping into the passageway. "Very well then," he said, gesturing to the passage. "Come with me."

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The moment the portrait door swung shut, the room was plunged into darkness. There was a humongous gust of wind, and Harry had to physically steel himself as not to be thrown off balance. A second later, the lights flicked on and Harry found himself and Percival standing in front of some modified version of a sleek subway car, doors open, revealing four comfortable looking seats. Percival gestured for Harry to sit down across from him. The doors slid shut, and the train began to glide forward. Although Harry was bursting with questions, he kept quiet, figuring that they would soon be answered. The two sat in silence, Percival occasionally flashing him a comforting grin. Harry counted ten minutes and twenty seven seconds in his head before Percival took a breath and opened his mouth.

"Kingsman is an international intelligence agency, operating at the highest level of discretion. An elite team of the best agents in the UK." Percival tapped the window on the side of one door. He pressed his palm onto it, and immediately, there was a flash of brilliant blue light. The dark window displayed streams of graphics and text, and a sideways K surrounded by a circle constantly remained in the top right corner. Percival dragged his finger across the screen, and a dial pad popped up. He entered in a series of numbers, and to Harry's disbelief, two glasses and a bottle of brandy dropped through a hidden panel in the ceiling. Percival caught them easily, handing Harry one glass. He toasted him. "Long live Kingsman." They drank. After they finished, a tray slid out of Percival' armrest and disappeared once the glasses and brandy were placed on it. "Where were we? Ah, yes. What I do." Percival leaned forward. "Can you guess?"

"Are you a Kingsman agent?"

"Precisely."

"A spy, sir?"

"I suppose." Percival scratched his chin. "Usually we don't recruit unless one agent is killed off on a mission- in which there is a sort of initiation for who gets the spot. But Kingsman noticed some very serious potential in you, and we've decided to make an exception. Abnormally high IQ scores were definitely a deciding factor." The train began to slow. Percival got up just as it braked, and stepped out, as if on cue, right when the doors opened.

"So... You want me to train to become a Kingsman?" Harry asked.

"Well, my boy, perhaps the real question is, do you want to become a Kingsman?"

"Yes," Harry responded without the slightest hesitation. "But... sir, to be honest, I have a difficult time completely believing you, even despite..." Harry motioned around him. "All this."

"Completely understandable. Come on, then." Percival beckoned Harry out of his seat, and led him over to a floor to ceiling window, overlooking hundreds of fighter jets, planes, helicopters and vehicles he didn't know the names of. His jaw dropped open as he looked out over the arsenal with utter amazement. Percival gave him a sly grin. "Not bad, eh?"

"Not bad at all," Harry managed.

"Well, then, come on. Arthur's waiting. We mustn't be late." Percival continued on at a brisk pace, leaving Harry to follow him.

They arrived at a large set of oak double doors. Percival pushed them open. A middle aged man sat in one of the two armchairs in the center of the room.

"Arthur, this is the Hart boy." The man named Arthur stood up, holding out a hand. Harry grasped it tightly, shaking firmly.

"Hm. At least he has a solid handshake," he said to Percival. Arthur turned to Harry. "A weak handshake means weak personality. Remember that, eh?" Harry nodded. Arthur looked him over. "Looks promising," he concluded. "Welcome to Kingsman, Harry. My name is Chester King, but please do call me Arthur around here, it's protocol."

"Arthur, Percival. Is there a Lancelot here as well, sir?" Harry asked. Percival and Arthur exchanged glances.

"Caught on quick, didn't you. Expected nothing less," Percival responded with a twinkle in his eye.

"Yes, yes, enough of that, Percival. Shall we continue then?" Arthur asked crossly. "Our Percy here has a soft spot for new recruits," Arthur said to Harry quietly.

"I do not!" Percival protested.

"Anyways," Arthur continued, ignoring him. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we? Percival, take Harry down to the track. Have him do some shooting and whatnot. Let's see how he fares, yes?"

"Yes, sir." Harry followed Percival out the door.

"Chester King. Arthur. Arthur King. King Arthur." Harry squinted up at Percival.

"The Kings date back to the very start of Kingsman."

"There it is again. Kingsman. King's men." Harry grinned. "Arthur King's men."

"Don't let him hear you saying that, he'll have your arse on the fence in no time at all."

"Yes, sir." The two reached a set of humongous doors, with two guards standing watch. They nodded briefly at Percival before one opened his door. Harry inhaled the fresh air coming from outside, savouring the coolness. He followed Percival down the front steps and up a long pathway, which looped to the side of the building. Harry observed the beautiful architecture in amazement.

"Close your mouth, silly boy, you look like a gaping whale," Percival scolded lightly. Harry bit back a retort. "Hm," Percival said after a moment. "Not bad. Remember this Harry, forever and always. It's what defines a gentleman. Manners maketh man. Usually, a new recruit would fire something back at me and I'd make him do fifty push-ups on the grass. But instead," he continued, as they reached a large track with a shooting range on the side. Percival pulled a small pistol out of his belt. "You get to fire this."

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**Whew. KINGSMAN IS SO AWESOME COLIN FIRTH IS SO PERFECTLY PERFECT AND OH MAN do you feel me or what?**

**Anyways, what do you guys think? Should I continue? Any feedback? I'd appreciate it enormously if you could not leave me in peace****. *wink***

**-happynomnom**


	4. Chapter 4: Hard to Get

Next chapter! Just wanted to give a shout out to all the super awesome people who help support this story- Dark Magical Sorcres, InTheNameOfAsgard, tasha. pierce.7315, 28MonstersWithin, 123Books, Artful Doodler, Pairx2, Jariboe, and TeslaTiger. Love you guys!

**ENJOY and reviews are _severely_ appreciated. **I also changed the title because it was really lame…

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"First lesson. How to hold a pistol." Percival handed Harry the gun. Harry grasped it, feeling the weight of the weapon in his palm. "Actually, I lied. Tell me the difference between a semi-automatic and a revolver.

"Well," Harry began, thinking. "Revolvers operate with a revolving cylinder for a magazine, in which you load the ammunition and from which you must remove the empty shell casings. After each bullet is fired, the cylinder rotates to line up the next shell with the firing pin. You fire when the hammer is cocked back into firing position with the thumb. Pulling the trigger activates the firing pin, discharging the weapon. A release pin opens the cylinder and rotates it out from the barr-"

"Jesus, you're like a walking encyclopedia. Enough about the revolver."

"Yes sir. This is a semi-automatic, I think. A semi-automatic pistol automatically advances each shell into the chamber from the pre-loaded magazine, and ejects the empty shell after it has been fired. The slide on the top of the gun is used to advance the first shell into the chamber, and can be locked in the back position with a button or pin on the side. The removable magazine is removed and loaded separately."

"Hm." Percival tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I didn't know that. Anyways. I suppose if you know that much, you know how to hold it." Harry nodded nervously. They were silent for a moment. "Well? Hold it already."

"But sir, I am holding it."

"Oh." Percival scrunched up his nose. "Well, I guess I was wrong. See, if you hold the gun like that-" Percival swatted the shooting end to the side, causing Harry's index finger and wrist to bend, pushing the trigger in the process. The front end of the gun stared him in the face. There was a loud bang and Harry jumped. "-you're going to shoot yourself if someone does what I just did. Luckily, I put in a blank."

"Luckily," Harry managed weakly. Percival took out another pistol out of his belt. Harry wondered how many he kept in there on a regular basis.

"This is a .357- very high caliber. Yours," he continued, gesturing at Harry's gun, "is a .22." Percival demonstrated on his own pistol. "Keep your finger outside the trigger guard, extended straight and flat on the side of the guard. Yes, that's right. Grip it tightly, like you're giving it a handshake. You should be good at that. Now, eventually you'll be good enough to fire it with one hand, running, and at a moving target, but for now, stand still with your other hand steadying the gun." Harry did as he asked. "Perfect. Now load it. Yes, good. Safety off?" Harry nodded. "On three. Ready, aim… fire!" There was a loud bang. "Again! Ready, aim, fire!" _Bang. _"Once more, now. Ready, aim, fire!" _Bang. _"Good." Percival squinted at the target. He wiped his brow, eyes widening.

"What is it, sir?"

"You swear you've never touched a gun in your life, boy?"

"Yes sir. Only read about them."

"Well, then, I guess I'm a monkey's uncle." Percival shrugged, turning around to face Harry. "Three bull's-eyes."

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Harry shook water out of his hair after taking a hot shower. His whole body was aching. The muscles in his right arm were particularly sore- but in a good way. He was proud of himself. It had been only a month since he'd arrived at the UK Kingsman HQ, but he could already, as promised by Percival, fire at a moving target with one hand while running, with any type of gun (except, of course, a rifle, which required two hands). He could throw knives, pick locks, and mix a very spectacular martini. Percival had worked him hard- endurance, strength, flexibility, you name it. Harry had studied text after text, reading about every single war and large-scale military and government scandal and every prominent figure involved in each. That is, the ones he didn't already know about. He was still tingling from the praise Percival had laid upon him when reporting to Arthur earlier that day. Arthur had hardly believed it, and had personally watched Harry practicing at the shooting range for over an hour. Afterwards, Arthur had drilled him with question after question, each of which Harry had responded to immediately and confidently. Arthur was thoroughly convinced and had instructed Percival to proceed to the next training exercise.

Harry sighed contentedly, stretching his sore muscles. He stepped out of the steamy room with only his boxers on and a towel around his shoulders. So, it was to his utter shock to find an extremely attractive girl standing outside the door, waiting for him. The two stared at each other in dead silence, her eyes flashing from his chest and back to his face briefly. She suddenly turned a light shade of pink as he ran his eyes up and down her body appraisingly.

"Uh, Mr. H-hart," she stammered. She scowled, clearing her throat. Flipping her straight, waist-length hair over her shoulder, she adjusted her stance and looked him square in the eye. "Mr. Hart," she said again, more firmly this time. He smiled a little, but she simply glared back. "Percival requests your presence. He's waiting in the hangar on level B12. And also, I suggest never leave your door open, unless of course, you want somebody placing a bomb under your pillow," she finished sweetly. With that, she turned on her heel, striding away.

"Wait!" Harry called, following her out of his room. "What's your name?" She ignored him. He kept his eyes glued to her back until she disappeared around a corner and out of sight. He raised his eyebrows. "Playing hard to get, huh?" he muttered to himself. He shook his head, the corners of his lips tilting up slightly. Harry wondered if she was an attendant. But she hadn't been wearing the standard-issue uniform… Harry decided not to dwell on it. He threw on a fresh dress-shirt, pants and tie before slipping into his old pair of Oxfords. As he left his room, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. Startled, he looked again. He could barely recognize himself. Clean-shaven, smartly dressed, more muscular… and a spark in his eyes. Harry's face broke into a smile. It was almost like he was a different person. _Correction, _he thought to himself. He _was _a different person.

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**I HAVE INTRODUCED THE OC ermergeeeerd. She will reappear in later chapters… And yes, there will be fluff. **

**THANKS FOR READING, HOPE YOU LIKED IT (I certainly had a great time writing it)! Till next time.**

**-happynomnom**


	5. Chapter 5: Insecure

Thank you for all the fabs, follows, and reviews. VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! I love reading reviews, they're the best. Anyways, here's an update. hope you enjoy it, and if you do remember to r, f, and f!

**Chapter Four-**

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"You need to learn how to fly any type of aircraft well enough so that if your pilot gets shot in the head, you can still get your arse back here," Percival declared. He tossed Harry a helmet, which he deftly caught. "Put that on and get ready for lift-off."

"Sir, I don't think I know how to fly this thing," Harry said, glancing at the panel of complicated looking controls.

"Well, we'll never know if you don't try, yes?" Percival jumped out of the sleek black helicopter.

"Wait, why aren't you coming with me?" Harry asked, a tad anxious.

"Well, if you crash, I don't want to crash with you." Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Percival silenced him with a sharp look. "Figure it out, soldier. I'll be up in a different craft, so even if you do crash, you probably won't die. Nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about," Harry repeated. "Right."

"Well?" Percival asked impatiently. He put on an earpiece, sliding the helicopter door shut. Harry spoke into the helmet's built-in mouthpiece.

"Do you copy?"

"Loud and clear." Percival winked and gave him a thumbs up, before running to a small fighter jet idling beside the copter. He seated himself. Harry bit his lip, glancing again at all the controls. The screen of his helmet's visor lit up, displaying scrolls of information- altitude, speed, wind direction… in the bottom left hand corner, there was a map with two dots- red and green. "I suggest you open the throttle first, Harry."

"Right." He heard the blades beginning to spin above him. "Uh…" Harry glanced around, trying to remember what he knew about helicopters. Something about a collective control… He turned his view to a lever beside his seat, and the visor of his helmet zoomed into it. _Collective Control _it labeled in red. "Aha," Harry muttered, pushing it forward. The helicopter rose unsteadily. Harry pushed it back down, and the helicopter landed. He grinned. "Cool." He dug through his brain, thinking. There was a joystick in front of him, between his legs. He tilted it side to side, imagining that the rotors were mirroring the same motion. His visor beeped. _Proper Operating RPM Reached. _"Okay." Harry pushed the the collective control forward again, feeling the craft lift off the ground. He nudged it forward with the joystick. The helicopter shot forward, missing the wing of a plane by mere inches.

"The pedals, Harry! The pedals!" Percival yelled in his ear. Harry desperately slammed his feet down on the pedals, and out of sheer luck, managed to steady the helicopter. He gasped for breath. "Well?" Percival asked a few seconds later. "Try it again! If I had a machine gun, you'd be long dead."

"I almost died just now!" Harry exploded.

"Oh, boohoo, I've almost died about fifty-six times in the last year, cupcake." Harry glared at the control board. "Now get a move on." Harry growled under his breath, slamming the collective control forward. He swore under his breath, tilting the joystick. Seething, he pedaled. Only twenty minutes later, while he was cruising five thousand feet above the ground, did he realize he was, in fact, cruising at five thousand feet above the ground.

Harry gazed out of the window in amazement. He felt his face break into an enormous grin. He glanced at the joystick curiously, before yanking it harshly to the right. He let out a whoop as it did a 360 degree flip, before he adjusted it again, righting the helicopter.

"Harry! Do you read me?"

"Yes, _Percy_," Harry responded.

"Don't get cheeky with me, boy. Congratulations, I suppose. It's always quite astonishing how motivated one becomes when angry," Percival noted.

"Hm," Harry grumbled. "Well, can I land yet?"

"You do realize you're the green point on the map and your target is the red dot, right?"

"What?" Harry exclaimed, jumping. The helicopter dipped dangerously forward. Harry glanced at the map that he had noticed earlier in the bottom left hand corner of his visor. "Shit," he groaned. He had long passed the blinking red dot. He turned the copter around, nudging it forward until it was streaking across the sky. Eight minutes and twelve seconds later, he began to decrease altitude. The red dot began flashing brightly. Suddenly, the helicopter tipped to the right violently, accompanied by a loud bang. An ear-piercing beeping sounded in Harry's ear. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed. _Tail Rotor Hit_ scrolled across Harry's view.

"Better get a move on!" Percival yelled over top of the noise.

"What's going on?" Harry yelled back. Silence. He cursed, shoving the joystick to the left. Just in time. He watched as a small missile hurtle past the window. "Evasive action, evasive action," he muttered under his breath. He focused, trying to recall what he knew. "Find out where the missiles are being fired from," he muttered to himself, leaning to look out the window. Sweeping grasslands, green turning golden. Harry couldn't see any sign of a missile launcher, until another one was fired. He grimaced as he dodged it clumsily, easing the chopper forward unsteadily. The broken tail was throwing the chopper's balance off significantly.

Finally, finally, he caught a brief flash of silver to his right. But was he supposed to go towards it or away from it? The map in his visor answered his question. The blinking red dot was exactly where the flash of silver had been. He took a deep breath, and advanced forward. A moment later, he was in clear view. Another missile fired, heading straight for Harry. He pulled the collective control lever up, but the chopper didn't budge. He swore loudly, yanking it harder. A slight lift. The missile collided with the landing skids, causing the craft to tumble backward. It swerved violently. Harry clenched his teeth. The helicopter was rapidly losing altitude. Harry could smell the fiery smoke coming from the damage. He swore again. There was no way he could land without getting hit again. _If only I could fire back… _he thought. He blinked, and would've smacked himself in the face if he hadn't been desperately grasping both levers. His eyes ran over the controls. "Argh!" he exclaimed angrily. There were far too many. "Where's that goddamn missile button?" he yelled. Suddenly, his visor zeroed in on a small joystick with a red button on it. _Missile Launcher _scrolled across his vision. He let out a short sigh of relief. Voice control, fancy that.

He let go of both levers- after all, they were basically completely inoperable and therefore useless by now. He reached over, carefully adjusting the joystick until he locked on his target. He pushed the button with his thumb, crossing his fingers. The ground was quickly approaching. _Stall _bleeped red across his visor. A humongous explosion suddenly rocketed from below him. His target had been destroyed, and by some unknown greater force, the helicopter was near perfectly leveled from the aftershock of the missile launching. Harry gently eased the craft down, attempting to land it without the landing skids intact. He failed miserably, causing the helicopter to fall flat on its side. The side window shattered on impact, showering large bits of broken glass onto Harry. He hurried to undo his seatbelt and then promptly sprinted away from the wreckage.

"Harry, stop running," Percival yelled in his ear.

"For the love of…" Harry struggled to not scream in rage. "Where the bloody hell have you been?"

"Watching you the entire time. I suppose you technically passed, but that was quite literally a disaster." Harry glanced at the flaming wreckage of the helicopter.

"Well, on the bright side," Percival continued. "You aren't dead." Percival frowned. "On the not so bright side, two things- Arthur is going to kill you, and also, you have another six other aircraft to fly."

"You're pissing me, right?" Harry groaned.

"Unfortunately, no." Percival began walking briskly, beckoning Harry to follow him. "Come on then, hurry up. We have to check on her."

"Who?" Harry asked. "Who's her?" Percival remained silent until they reached the smoking wreckage of the lone missile launcher. Sitting cross-legged, a few meters away, was a familiar looking girl with jet black waist length hair, which was tied up in a high ponytail. She looked up, eyes narrowing.

"Oh," she said as they approached. "It's you."

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"I never did get your name," Harry said, smirking. He held out a hand. She glared murderously at him, shaking grudgingly. She glanced at Percival, who was watching the exchange with an amused expression.

"Winter."

"Winter?" Harry smiled. "That's a beautiful name."

"I hate it," she said simply. Harry shrugged.

"I don't," he replied. She gazed at him curiously, silent for a few moments. She looked suddenly vulnerable and delicate.

"Thanks, I guess," she murmured hesitantly, eyes searching his thoughtfully.

"Right then," Percival interrupted, clapping his hands together. "Winter, get the next round of ammunition ready. Nice aim."

"Wait, _you _were firing at me?" Harry exclaimed.

"Well, duh," Winter retorted. Her earlier unconfidence suddenly disappeared, as if she had flicked a switch off. She smirked and turned away. Harry watched her leave, slightly perplexed. She seemed like a snob, and was certainly rude, but something about her insecurity towards her name confused Harry. He was curious to learn more about her, to get to know her better.

"She's had a… difficult time adjusting. Don't mind her," Percival reassured him. Harry gazed after her for another moment before turning to Percival.

"In what sense?"

"Severely abused by her four older brothers, both physically and verbally, shunned by her parents. Scarred for life, the poor girl. But don't mention that to her," Percival added hastily. "Doesn't want anybody's sympathy. Incredible tactical genius, she is. Highly skilled in hand-to-hand combat." Percival stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Actually, I think it'd be extremely beneficial for you to do some training with her, now that I think about it."

"I'd like to get to know her better," Harry admitted. The two men stood silently, both deep in thought. Finally, Percival nodded firmly.

"I'll have it arranged. Now, come on then, let's get back to HQ and have you test out two more jets today. We'll finish them up tomorrow. And if you can manage, try not to crash. I'm going to get an earful from Arthur when he hears about this, you know."

"Sorry, sir. But it might've been helpful to have a manual of some sort."

"Do you honestly think that you'll have time to read through a manual when someone has a bazooka pointed at your face? You might as well be having a cup of tea with that." They started walking towards Percival's jet, continuing to banter lightly.

From her seat in the tallest pine tree in the clearing, Winter watched the two men retreating back into the plane with a pair of binoculars. She sighed absentmindedly, thinking about her brief conversation with Harry. Maybe he was different from the others. Maybe, just maybe, he could be her friend.

* * *

**Thanks so much for reading. Hope it was sort of exciting at least. What's your opinion on Winter? Any advice or questions? Post a review and I'll get right back to you. THANKS! **

**-happynomnom**


	6. Chapter 6: Pulverization

**Chapter 6 (I think… ?_?)-**

* * *

"Percival's forcing me to do training with you. Get your arse to training facility #3 in the next ten minutes," she said crossly. With that, she slammed the door behind her and stalked away. Harry sat still for a moment, replaying her words. Sighing, he got up and changed into some workout clothes before meeting Winter in the facility. She didn't notice him coming in, because she was busy pulverizing a line of dummies. She had a sleek handgun in her right hand, and a machete in the other. She flipped over the dummies gracefully, dodging imaginary bullets and impaling her ferocious enemies. She slashed away, firing randomly. Harry noticed that she seldom hit her target with the gun, even from close range. But her agility made up for it- the dummies rocketed back from their posts every time she threw a punch. Her kicks produced dents in the dummies' sides. Finally, when every single one was demolished, she dropped to her heels, rocking back and forth slowly. Sweat poured down her neck, and she took a swig of water. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. She spun around, her face a mask of fury.

"Oh," she remarked, expression relaxing slightly. "It's just you."

"Just me," Harry repeated quietly. He walked towards her, taking a seat beside her. She exhaled slowly. They sat in a sort of peaceful quiet. Harry waited for her to catch her breath.

"Percival said I had to teach you a couple of different languages as well," she said finally, breaking the silence.

"Languages? What's wrong with my English?"

"No, I mean like Mandarin and German and some others."

"You can speak Mandarin and German?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Among others. I'm multilingual," she explained proudly.

"Fascinating."

"Yeah, it's been pretty handy, actually," Winter murmured, a grin lighting her pretty features.

"Yeah, like how?" Harry pried lightly.

"Well, there was this one time when these thugs were planning to attack me. They devised it all in Korean, thinking that I would have no idea what they were talking about." Winter snorted. "I kicked their sorry little asses," she added thoughtfully.

"I can imagine," Harry admitted sincerely. It was quiet again. "I'm sure you would've kicked their asses even if you hadn't known what they were talking about," Harry blurted out. Her already pink cheeks darkened considerably.

"Yeah," she finally managed. She scrutinized him, trying to see if he was joking."I know." She tilted her head, glancing at him. He was mystified. This seemingly arrogant girl had a seemingly… hesitant and shy side. Harry's best guess was that she used the flair to cover that more timid side up. "Well, anyways." She heaved herself up, holding out a hand to Harry. "Training, right?"

"Right," he responded, taking her hand. She smiled. Harry noticed she had dimples. She was really cute when she smiled, but he didn't dare mention it. Her smile suddenly turned devilish, and she let go of Harry's hand just as he was halfway up. He fell back down on his arse and she burst out laughing at the appalled look on his face. He scowled, which made her laugh harder.

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**Thank you so much for reading, and HUMONGONOZOLOUS thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and/or faved. **Sorry about the slow update- electricity blackout. And obviously, like any person with common sense, I didn't save. XD

Anyways, again, thanks for all the support- the next chapter is done and will be updated soon, I hope. Until then, my friends!

-happynomnom


	7. Chapter 7: Mission

**Chapter Seven- **

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"I'm going to be gone for the next five weeks on a mission, Harry." Percival paced the length of the room. "So I'm leaving you with Arthur, yes? But exciting news."

"Sir?"

"_Your_ first mission," Percival declared, handing Harry the shiny dossier. "Contents include mission brief, airplane tickets, fake passport and various ID. Since it's your first mission, we're giving you a longer heads-up. Typically, you'll have a few days to prepare, unless it's a large mission- in which you'll have about two weeks."

"Where am I headed to?"

"Paris." Harry nodded, leafing through the folder.

"Any questions? Otherwise, you're dismissed. Good luck, and have fun." Percival clapped him on the shoulder, a mysterious twinkle in his eyes, before exiting the room. Harry took a seat in one of the armchairs, and settled himself in comfortably. He began leafing through the dossier, reviewing details. He was leaving in four weeks and two days, at 2000 hours. Paris. It was a straight-forward mission- he and a second agent were to infiltrate a military establishment, collect two hardcopy files, scan them, and get back on the plane. To his surprise, he noticed he would be gone an entire week, even though the mission should only take a couple of hours. There was a knock at the door, and Percival popped his head back in. "Just wanted to add- Arthur just reminded me. I'll be in Scotland for a mission. I'm sorry that I won't be cheering for you from the sidelines on your first mission, since I'll be on one myself with Agent Galahad."

"Yes sir," Harry replied. "What's it about this time?"

"You know that's classified, Harry," Percival scolded, raising an eyebrow. Harry stuck out his lower lip. "I'll tell you this much," Percival said finally, leaning in to whisper in Harry's ear. "Prodigy. Ten year old boy. Hacked pass government encrypted top-secret data, god knows how, sold some to the black market for money. Technical genius. He's been stirring up minor trouble for a few years, but nothing like this. Nobody can catch the boy. He's fast and clever. He has a small gang that backs him up so long as he pays them cold cash. We're going undercover in attempts to recruit him." Percival blinked, realizing he'd told Harry the entire mission accidentally. "I'll have your arse if anyone finds out." Harry nodded firmly.

"You know I don't grass, Percival."

"So be it, then." Percival clapped Harry on the back. "Behave yourself, yeah? Train hard with Winter. Fly a jet or two. I'll be back before you know it." Percival exited the room.

"Yes sir. Good luck," Harry called after him.

"Good luck to you too," Percival replied. Harry continued looking through the dossier.

"Oh," he suddenly exclaimed softly, noticing the name of the agent who would be accompanying him. Winter. He remembered the amused look in Percival's eyes, telling him to have fun. He had an entire week, alone in Paris, with Winter. He smiled. There was a knock at the door, and Harry looked up, tucking the file away. "Come in," he called. A face peeked out from the crack in the doorway. It was Winter.

"If you think for a second that you can boss me around in Paris, you are completely mistaken," Winter growled.

"Why in the world would I think that?" Harry questioned, surprised.

"Because." Winter snorted, walking into the room after closing the door and plopping herself on the armchair beside Harry's.

"That's hardly a valid reason," Harry remarked. Winter glared at him.

"Say it again," she challenged playfully, raising a fist. Harry winced, feeling all the bruises he had acquired in the last little while fighting Winter throb, as if on cue. He was covered in blue and black marks- she had beaten the shit out of him, pure and simple. But he was getting better, and she knew it.

"I doubt you're here just to harass me, Winter," he said, changing the subject. "So what do I owe this pleasure to?" At this she hesitated. Shrugging, she refused to meet his gaze. Harry noticed that her cheeks had taken a light, rosy shade. Harry struggled to contain the small smile forming on his lips.

"I dunno," she finally sighed, looking up at the ceiling. She crossed her hands underneath her head and teasingly propped her legs on the arm of Harry's chair. Harry glanced at the polished combat boots that were currently a few feet from his face. "Maybe I was lonely."

"Lonely?" Harry scoffed. "_You?"_

"Maybe."

"Just a little."

"Just barely," Winter confirmed.

"Ah," came Harry's response. "Well, I'm honoured that I've been chosen to keep you company."

"You should be," Winter agreed. They sat in a somewhat comfortable silence after that, Harry flipping through the mission brief while Winter leafed through a novel that had been resting on fireplace mantel.

Harry took a moment to marvel at how Winter had changed in the last few weeks alone. The more time he spent with her, the more time he realized he liked her. Yes, she was just as arrogant as she had been when Harry had met her. But at the same time, the more comfortable the two became around one another, particularly Winter, the more their true personalities shone. Winter was surprisingly kind at times, especially to animals. He remembered the first time they'd taken a walk outside together.

"_Weather's quite nice," Harry remarked, trying to make conversation. _

"_Bull. Cloudy days are definitely better," Winter replied, sighing. _

"_I suppose it fits your personality," Harry said dryly. She rolled her eyes. They continued on with their light banter, taking a path leading off of Kingsman Mansion and into a small gathering of tall trees- not quite a forest, but more than just a few trees growing in the middle of nowhere. Suddenly, Winter froze. She grabbed Harry's arm, pulling it to her chest. She put a finger to her lips, listening intently. Before Harry could comprehend what was happening, she darted to the left, parting a large clump of bushes in order to get past. Harry scrambled to follow. Once he stepped out of the bushes, he opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it upon seeing Winter kneeling on the ground, her back to him. He crept to her side, staring at the whimpering creature cradled in her arms. She crooned to it gently, pressing it close to her chest. Harry realized it was a small dog. It was caked in dirt, mangy, and obviously malnourished. Harry could also see that its paw was severely swollen. The dog was clearly dying. It was a pitiful sight._

"_Come on, Winter," Harry murmured, putting a hand on her shoulder. _

"_Shut up," Winter had hissed with a ferocity that Harry had never seen before. She stood up slowly, still murmuring to the dog in her arms. She turned to face Harry. "Well? Get moving."_

"_Winter," Harry began, knowing exactly what she was planning to do. "Although I regret saying this, we can't bring that thing back with us. Percival is going to kill us."_

"_The only thing you're going to regret," Winter growled, "is not. Fucking. Moving."_

_Harry decided not to argue. _

When they had arrived back at the mansion, Percival, to Harry's surprise, did not kill them. In fact, upon seeing the trembling animal in Winter's arms, he had rushed them to the infirmary and called the nearest vet. Winter didn't step out of the infirmary for days. Harry constantly visited- to bring food or just keep company, but to be honest, he was for more concerned with Winter's well-being than the dog's. Finally, finally, some days later, the vet had announced the dog was well on its way to recovery. When Harry saw its glossy golden coat and bright eyes, he had to look twice. The transformation was incredible. Harry couldn't believe it, not until Winter had picked up the pup-it turned out that it was a puppy, and brought it to his face. It licked his face and yipped happily. Amazed, Harry brought a hand to its head and caressed its silky ears.

"_I'm glad I moved," Harry admitted. _

"_Her name is Clover."_

"_Clover?" Harry asked. She nodded. _

"_It's from a TV show I used to watch when I was a kid- Totally Spies?" Harry gave her an apologetic look, shaking his head. She shrugged. "Best show ever. Anyways, with the red collar and golden fur, she kind of reminded me of one of the characters." Harry nodded. _

"_I'll be sure to watch it sometime." There was an awkward silence._

"_Harry," she finally said. He looked up from the puppy and up at Winter. "Harry," she said again. "Never give up on someone, okay?" _

"_What?"_

"_Never, ever give up on someone. Anyone and everyone has the right to a second chance. Even if they're dying, or just need someone to rely on. Okay? Promise me you won't." Harry blinked, mulling over her words. He patted Clover's head, never taking his eyes off of hers. There was something in them- a deep, painful sorrow that conveyed something Harry had never seen before. He wanted to ask her about it, but had a feeling she'd tell him in time. So he simply nodded._

"_Promise."_

Now, as Harry looked up at Winter, curled up in the armchair, dark hair floating and swirling down her back, he was glad that he hadn't given up on becoming her friend.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. And another huge thank you, as usual to everyone who reviewed, f, and f'ed. **

**Going to try and do my homework now (instead of procrastinating, but fat chance). XD**

**-happynomnom**


	8. Chapter 8: Code Omega

**Chapter Eight-**

* * *

After Percival had left, three weeks passed uneventfully. Harry managed to disarm Winter for the second time. She began teaching him French, in preparation for the mission. The week before Percival was scheduled to return, Harry decided to go visit Winter.

When Harry arrived at her room, he was surprised to find the door standing slightly ajar.

"Winter?" he called out softly. Frowning, he poked his head in. She was nowhere to be seen. Stepping inside, he vaguely heard a sweet voice singing and the pattering of the shower. He chuckled. She was singing in the shower. He settled himself on the sofa, and picked up a thin novel off the coffee table. He poured himself some tea, helped himself to a biscuit (it was an agreement between the two of them- when she was in his room, she could eat his food) and immersed himself in the storyline. He vaguely noticed the shower turning off a while later. He also heard a peculiar ticking noise- he assumed it was an alarm clock of some sort.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" a voice suddenly screeched. Harry glanced up and promptly choked on his tea. Winter was wearing only a lacy black bra and panties (not that Harry was looking), with a towel wrapped around her wet hair. She screamed again, picking up the object on her left and hurling it at Harry, which happened to be a picture frame. In her panic, she missed, and the frame harmlessly bounced off the cushion beside Harry. The next time, she was far more accurate, and Harry had to duck to avoid a well-aimed tissue box. Yelling obscenities at him, Winter continued throwing things at him until Harry sprung up from his seat and grabbed her wrists. She tried to bite him, but he didn't budge.

"Winter! I'm sorry! Stop it!" he yelled. She bared her teeth at him.

"Why the fuck did you break into my room?"

"I didn't!" Harry protested. "Your door was open!"

"You know I never leave my door open!" Winter yelled. "Unless I want somebody to place-"

"A bomb under your pillow," Harry finished. They stared at each other, comprehension dawning on their faces when they heard the strange ticking noise Harry had heard earlier turn into an ominous, loud beeping. The beeping begin to accelerate. Without thinking, Harry grabbed her waist and threw himself with all his weight at the room's window, taking her with him. They went tumbling out of the shattered window just as the room exploded. Harry hugged Winter tightly to his chest, making sure he took the force of the blow when hitting the ground. Even though he braced himself, the wind was still knocked out of his lungs. They lay, frozen and shocked, for a few moments, breathing heavily. Harry tried to ignore the press of her bare skin on his body. Recovering first, Winter scrambled off him, patting his chest.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" she exclaimed, panicking. "Oh shit, I'm not wearing anything," she noted. Grimacing, Harry pushed himself off the ground, pulling off his jacket and dress shirt. She gave him a confused look. "The lady's needs come before the gentleman's," he breathed. She grinned. He handed her the shirt, which she hastily put on. It was big on her, ending a few inches above her knees. "Give me your belt," she said after a moment.

"Why?" Harry wheezed. He did it anyways. She strapped it around her waist. Scrolling up the sleeves past her elbows, she did a little pose for him. It suddenly looked as if she was wearing a fashionable dress. He managed a grin, shaking his head ruefully. She helped him up, dusting off his jacket for him.

"Goddamn lucky Clover is at the vet's for a checkup," Winter remarked, swallowing. Harry gave her a reassuring glance before the two of them looked up simultaneously at the smoke billowing out of the heard voices, and the pounding of feet. Arthur appeared in the distance, rushing towards them.

"Are you two okay?" Arthur asked anxiously. Several other agents followed behind him, carrying various weaponry.

"We're fine, sir," Harry responded. "Someone put a bomb in her room while she was in the shower."

"That's impossible," Arthur insisted.

"Well, do you suppose I blew up my room for the fun of it?" Winter asked angrily. Harry shot her a look. No point in getting Arthur pissed off. "Sorry," she amended. "Just a bit wound up."

"Understandable," Arthur replied curtly. "Search the area," he commanded the agents. "Call in the French Kingsman branch for back up," he told another familiar looking agent, likely Arthur's assistant, who appeared at Arthur's right side.

"Yes sir," she replied, nodding firmly. She dialed a few numbers into a small keypad in her pocket. "French HQ, this is UK HQ, do you read?" She paused. "This is UK HQ to French HQ, requesting back up. We have a Code Black, I repeat, a Code Black. Over." She paused again, listening. Frowning, she tapped a device sitting beside her ear. "French HQ, do you read? Hello?" She turned to Arthur, anxiety settling over her expression. "I can't connect."

"This is UK HQ," Arthur began, tapping the device beside his own ear. "Requesting immediate back up. French HQ, do you copy?"

"We have an emergency!" a voice suddenly hollered from the other end.

"Yes, a Code Black," Arthur replied irritatedly.

"No! UK Kingsman Agent Percival and Galahad-" Sounds of more yelling and gunshots were faintly heard.

"What? What the fuck is going on?" Arthur shouted into his mic.

"We have- cod-" The transmission shut off suddenly. An enormous blast of sound from the earpiece caused both Arthur and his assistant to jump. Harry and Winter exchanged worried glances. "I repeat!" the person on the other line yelled. "A code Omega!" Arthur stiffened visibly. The transmission went dead. Arthur's assistant froze.

"Did he say…" she trailed off. Arthur's mouth was set in a grim line.

"We have a code Omega," Arthur confirmed.

* * *

**Dun dun dun! Okay, hope you enjoyed it, thank you for all the support! **

**-happynomnom**


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